


Unbreakable

by F0rce0fnatur3



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cabins, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, Modern Era, Professors, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F0rce0fnatur3/pseuds/F0rce0fnatur3
Summary: Vacation is going super well for you.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Reader
Kudos: 42





	Unbreakable

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wasn't going to do another thing for this...but I did xD behold part II *yeets you into it*

You had invited him back to your cabin and the thoughts of the day before reeling in your mind. You’re waiting for him to knock at your door and while you do you drown in the hazy memories that your skin still remembers. The languid caresses up the stroke of your arm, the burning kisses at the hallow of your throat, the marks still left lingering like warm crimson petals sitting upon the surface of your skin. The pads of your fingertips ghost over the pale purpling marks and for a moment you close your eyes to absorb it all. The way he kissed you that first time settles like a cloud in the fiber of your bones and silver ripples up your spine. You trace your fingers from your lips to the shell of your ear wanting to feel his teeth testing the pressure points over your skin.

You come out of your daydream as the stern rapping of his knuckles against the door draws you back to the present. You feel a little apprehensive as your fingers slowly reach for the handle. Quietly you take a hesitant peak out and are greeted with a twin pair of dusky eyes before he offers you a polite smile and in return you open the door wide allowing him to stride through. You catch his scent on the breeze he creates taking in the aftershave. There’s a hint of strong earthy spice intermingled with dulcet undertones of something sweet and hearty like vanilla chai. You hear a soft ‘clank’ against the countertop, you turn to see him opening the bottle of wine and fishing for glasses in one of the cabinets.

As the liquid pools into the cylinders you notice the color is blush. A taste you find not particularly wanted on his part, so perhaps he had made a special trip just for this occasion. You take a generous sip before feeling your tongue tie inside your mouth. How does one go from a shameful fuck in the woods to bringing up light conversation now that the basic grit of what was wanted was out of the way? Hey, great day for fucking in the woods wouldn’t you agree? You scoff lightly at yourself and thank small miracles that he breaks the ice.

“Didn’t see you on the pathway this morning.” You notice he poured a splash for himself so you don’t drink alone, and even if he hates wine you’re thankful for his small sacrifice. Your eyes focus on the thin line which stretches into a pulled smirk. Shit, what did he just say? You do a quick rewind. Then feel your face flush. Slowly you connect the dots realizing just what his insinuation means. Your heart drums in your chest and you bury your thoughts and mouth in another gracious sip of wine. You smack your lips as they disconnect from the rim. You gather yourself back up and throw the obvious bait away.

“I thought I would take a break this morning and read on the patio.”

It’s your turn to smirk and in your triumph of slighting him you roll the contents of your glass around before taking a small sip. He grabs the stem of the glass taking it gingerly away from you before leaning in over the place of the cup and you steel yourself against the countertop. A delicious rush tingles warmly over your nipples and in between your legs. Your breath hitches in your lungs and you remind yourself to breathe, even and steady. The sheer hold he has on you with his gaze alone is enough to make you want to squirm into yourself. He’s always had that rock steady gaze that looked through a person to their soul and now you find it only directed on you. No other people around. With the scent of sex still in your body. He demands your attention with just this one look. And you give it to him.

“____(y/n), don’t be coy.” There’s a light primal grow emanating in the baritone of his deep timbered voice that sends vibrating ripples over the bumps of your skin. His soft purr melts your resolve away and you lean into the hand that’s replaced the stem with your cheeks. His palm is warm and inviting. You can feel the playful flexing of his fingers as you bury your nose into his hand taking in more of the intoxicating scent. He guides your face back up to force your eyes to meet his cruelly. He hasn’t even touched you really and already you’re wriggling with excited need and want for this man to fuck you on the counter. To cast aside all formalities and rip open the maxi dress you especially chose just for this occasion. You want his eyes to linger on your pressed up breasts, you want him to notice the bare skin on your shoulders, the way you swept your hair in a low hanging chignon so he could partake in paying attention to the soft sweet spots on your neck. To call attention to your long legs which you shaved and added extra soft moisturizer the night before.

The formal suit he’s wearing doesn’t help matters either. You want to curl your fingers around the only living colored piece on his body which is resting in the apex of his neck. To hold the tie between your teeth as you set his collar free of it while you slowly undo the pearl buttons over his lapel, and then down on his dress shirt. You’ve imagined this same scenario dozens of times as he’s trying to impart the wisdom of ideology to you during a lecture. 

“I’m not the one who started things off being coy, that was you with your offhand comment, remember?” His eyes hood darkly, but he keeps his half lidded gaze on you. There’s a soft overcast that passes through his clad spheres, you shiver. Perhaps you’ve tread upon dangerous ground. As you are consumed with even more thoughts some of the things you imagined come to fruition. He takes hold of your waist while you’re still on the other side of the countertop and pulls you over until you’re sitting above him, legs pressed to his stomach, his hands on your thighs, and fingers skimming dangerously close to your inner thighs. All the while the glasses fall and break splashing the faint rosy color onto the ground painting the wood in a champagne color.

You let out a soft gasp but are happy the distance is gone between you and him. The pressure of his willowy fingers dig firmly into the soft flesh of your legs. His lips are the level of your collarbone but he doesn’t take advantage of this height difference, not even when you crane your neck slightly and move slightly closer to those marble tiers. His right hand glides up the side of your body, over every tightly fitted fringe that censors you until they find the tendrils of hair that threaten to come loose with another shake of your head. He locks the angle of your face in place and he speaks almost breathlessly against your skin. The tension you building between you and him is going to explode. You can feel it like static in the air before lightning strikes. The invisible charge vibrating and ready to burst. You’re going to burst if he doesn’t touch you soon. If he doesn’t use his mouth to make you ascend into carnal bliss like the night before. You lock your toes into the pinch of his waistband and with another gentle tug he yields any other movements you’re going to make.

“Ever since I saw you register for my class I had to bury and fight against these thoughts. However…every time we would lock eyes I knew I needed to steel myself and commit to not gaze over at you every minute of the day.” This was the most you’ve heard him speak all year, to you at least, but hearing his candor about wanting you as badly as you’ve wanted him stirs your innermost desires. Like wanting the rare expensive toy on the shelf when you were little. Yet you knew it might be one sided on your part, you dismissed the small peeks and glances as nothing more than a typical teacher sweeping his eyes over the class. Yet as he lay it out bare for you to absorb you recall the times when upon finishing tests or working diligently on something you felt his eyes on you and when you glanced up sure enough you locked eyes with the elder Uchiha. And each time your heart stuttered ready to carve a cavern out of your chest.

“Even now, like the way you’re looking at me, lips parted, face twisted in that confused state it usually goes into when faced with a challenge, I wanted nothing more than to go to you. To fuck you over and over again.” Your breathing rises. You make him swallow any more words he has prepared by crashing your lips to his in a deep demanding kiss. Like magnets you’ve fused yourself to him and tighten your looped leg against his hips urging him closer so you can melt into him. The movement liberates your locks from their hold. In a messy bloom your hair falls all around you both. You quickly bring a hand up to push them away behind your ears so you can continue the onslaught of your lips to his. Your tongue breaches the barrier of his lips and in return he’s kissing you at every angle your lips allow his to meet in fervent positions between three second breaks for breath.

Structure goes out the window when your mind clouds over and the ideas you had about your teeth unknotting his tie fall like shooting stars turning to stardust as soon as they drop down upon your membrane. All that matters is getting him out of those damned clothes. As he cups your ass with his free hand his mouth finds your neck exploring the map of his marked spots revisiting the familiar tug of skin against his teeth causing the strings inside you to ripple in response. He finds your favorite one at the base of your neck and nips causing you to lose focus on your task and when you find it too tedious to continue to work on the impossibly secure tie you abandon it for something easier. The buttons pop out of their burrows and the slim thread that holds some in place break sending the buttons scattering to the floor. The sound is like rain against a tin roof but hit you in a much more sensual spot.

You feel his shoulders dip and the scoop of his jacket falls like black ink in a pool against the floor allowing the wine to bleed into the fabric and absorb into an overtaken manor, much like he’s doing with you at the very moment. You thread your fingers into the soft locks of his ponytail and an odd curiosity riddles you. You’ve never actually seen him without it. He’s always in pristine and pressed shape. You too free his luscious locks and they don’t spill down like your hair usually does. Instead, they fall in an almost poetic way. On silent wings they fan around his back letting a few strands lazily drape over the front of his shoulder. It’s longer than you expected and maybe even more conditioned than yours, but beautiful none-the-less.

You open the collar that’s popped itself up like a weed among a tended garden and place a soft kiss against his bare shoulder. A luxury you weren’t allowed to venture yesterday since it was more a needy want than this intimate gesture now. Here you were in private. Here you won’t be discovered. Here you can rest and take the time to fully undress. You feel something cold like metal against your warm buzzing swollen lips. Taken aback you lean back to let the item come into fuzzying clear focus. You’ve never noticed him wear a necklace before. Then again he never allowed a single misplacement of his apparel of appearance show in class. The thick black cord that holds these odd circular shapes perplex you. There is no rhyme or reason to them, they just are, and yet you want to ask him about it. But as his hands tear open the back of your dress you abandon the thought shuttering in the rigid air of the room as it breaths against the bare skin of your back. His calloused fingers glide up the trail of your spine to between the wings of your shoulder blades.

He holds you up but lifts you off the counter and heads to the living room where you’ve made sure the fire was at a moderate temperature to give the room a lukewarm feel. He lays you atop a pile of your blankets you laid out the first night you got there. It was nice falling asleep next to the fire while watching the flat screen above the mantle. The discarded heap lumps awkwardly against your back and you lay a steady hand on his chest to keep him from continuing until your free hand worked at smoothing the bumps out. His eager lips kiss your fingertips, your palm, graze against your knuckles, touch against the bone in your wrist and up your arm. You attempt to kick the rest down and when he reaches your lips you plant your hands against the firm muscles of his back.

The fabric of his shirt tickles your knuckles as you rove your hands over the peaks and valleys hidden in the creases of his body that make up this man. You still him when they reach his long cheekbones. Your thumbs trace the lines under his eyes admiring his beauty and raw masculinity against the firelight. The shadows dance over his body animating the still incalculable being. Truly he belongs in a museum frozen in carved stone. From then on both your movements seem more leisurely. He breaks the stillness by kissing you so softly you feel like he’s broken you into a thousand pieces and is now piecing you back together with fragile fingers that are meant for nothing more than destruction.

He tears at the fabric of your dress and you lift your hips so the last remaining pieces of cloth slide off you and while his hands are by your hips he takes advantage of this opportunity of freeing himself from tightly fitted pants. His shirt gapes open as he looms straddling over you. The necklace which was once hidden now dangles freely against the trunk of his neck. His soft locks too succumb to gravity. You sweep some away back over his shoulder before stroking them along the ridge of his pectoral lines. You can feel the heat in your face rise as they tentatively meet the valley of his lower back, you have to inch yourself slightly under him in order to get to his taught ass. You give a firm squeeze and look away when the smirk on his lips grow.

It didn’t seem fair. He was so much larger than you that it seemed every piece of you was made to fit against his hands. Yet you had to move just to take the expanse of his lean height. The rough heat of his palm brushes against the hood of your clit taking you by surprise and sending a breathy note of a moan into the air.

“Beautiful.” His praise makes you blush. To hear the work of art compliment you seems peculiar when it should be the other way around. He traces the road of your body by its outline moving against every curve with his free hand just to distract you so you don’t notice him stroking your clit. The difference in your circuitry working against one another pools into the pit of your stomach before it transmits a pulsing sensation to your cunt. You let him know the sweet anguish he’s holding over you by letting out another muffled moan as you bite against the hard skin cloaked over his collarbone. You can’t singularly focus on one set of his hands until he blinds you by adding his teeth into the mixture and bites the bud of your nipple. He rolls his palm in a circular motion making your legs spread with need and your opening begging for his invitation by becoming wet. Your breathing picks up as he works all three of his torturous motions. His tongue lolls around the bead of your areola, his other hand works on the other neglected bud, and his circular motions are surging your forward. You mewl into him bucking your hips as you cry out your orgasm rubbing roughly against his hand as he obliges by quickly moving his fingers. You feel the hollow space of your hip joint lock itself as you hold your breath and cry out his name cumming all over his hand. You hadn’t noticed his other hand was holding the small of your back placing you gently back down to the safety of the blankets letting your buttocks rest against the ground.

His eyes never left yours during your orgasm. The knowledge of knowing he’s seared your most private expression into his mind makes the red in your cheeks linger. He sucks the juices off his fingers. You’re still a little unsettled by someone tasting you and actually enjoying it, yet when you know its him doing it you’d be more than happy if he shoved his face between your legs and lapped up the rest of the juices you left because of him. You can feel the head of his cock against your stomach. You reach down feeling the hardened volcanic member stroking to feel the texture of it. You can feel the veins that supply the blood flow to his penis pulsing alive and responding to your touch. You can feel the pre-cum glide over your fingers. You dare to take a taste. It’s salty, and a milky white like before.

He lowers his hand to guide himself in but you catch him by his wrist. You lock eyes, and you stay connected even when you yourself guide him inside you until he takes over and buries into the damp warm folds inside you. He reaches his hilt filling you up. You let out a purring moan that wraps around his ears like a gossamer of warmly soft plume of feathers. This encourages him to drive deeper and harder into you until you yourself open up to fit his cock. You’re surprised your walls take in his shape and suck him in each thrust. As he beats against you his pelvic bone ruts against your clit in a wonderfully tingling sensation each time he hits his mark. The rough friction of his skin and raw slapping skin against skin brings you back to yesterday when the chorus of the closed in wood resounded and reverberated those sounds amplifying them like a private theater. Now that sound fought against the crackling pop of the fire as the logs broke and collapsed against one another. Ironic for what was going to happen you quip in your heated haze.

He leans down to kiss you once more. As he does you wrap your arms around his body as he lithely strokes over your sensitive pearl in a perfect rhythm that will bring you to a more powerfully surged release. He slips his tongue into your mouth mimicking his cock pounding into your pussy, his pace makes the slide of his tongue uneven matching the transitions of his thrusts. Your pants and moans synchronize with his own and as he lifts your ass up to meet his hips it locks you into a deeper feeling which you let him know in between your pants that you’re about to cum. Your fingers find the thick cord of his necklace to grip onto for stability. In response he grips your hips roughly and you arch your back into a bow as he comes down onto you pinning you in place as you writhe against his body reeling in the pulsating throbbing you both share as he’s burrowed deep inside you spilling his thick semen into you.

As you both catch your breaths you wrap your arms around him drawing him nearer to your chest, you can feel him balancing upon his forearms wondering if he’s afraid he might crush you should he put his full weight over you. Separation be damned, you wanted him, all of him resting on you and with a little tug he gives in as the stability in his locked frame buckles and his stomach fits over yours like puzzle pieces melting into one another and you wrap your legs around him letting out contented sighs against his shoulder. Now that the fog of lust has subsided you feel yourself yearning to keep this man here with you in your embrace. It almost hurts to know he’ll leave in a few hours. He can sense the trembling of your lips and jawline, he balances upon his forearms to get a good vantage point of your face. You quickly cup your face to avoid him from seeing the diamonds that threaten to fall from your eyes. He gingerly takes hold of your wrist placing a simple kiss against it while dusting away the jewels and giving you a reassuring soft smile. You gulp down the warm lump in your throat and find the words die at your lips until finally you’re able to muster up the courage to ask him plainly:

“I-Itachi…? Would you…stay for dinner?” The soft smile stays sewn to his lips, as he answers you as quietly and assuredly as his baritone timber will allow.

“Of course love.”


End file.
